


Let Me Laugh Like I Did When I Was a Kid (until i burst into tears)

by FuryBeam136



Series: fics fury wrote on their 3ds at like 1am [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, Post-Betrayal, Slavery, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, basically what happens after naesala sells reyson to oliver, trans reyson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryBeam136/pseuds/FuryBeam136
Summary: Reyson is still and silent as the disgustingly overweightthinghands a large pouch of gold to Naesala in exchange for the trailing rope binding Reyson's hands. He is silent, and he is seething.
Relationships: Reyson/Tibarn (Fire Emblem)
Series: fics fury wrote on their 3ds at like 1am [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454896
Kudos: 31





	Let Me Laugh Like I Did When I Was a Kid (until i burst into tears)

Being sold by his former best friend aches. Being sold by his former best friend _as a woman_ is a knife in his heart.

Reyson is still and silent as the disgustingly overweight _thing_ hands a large pouch of gold to Naesala in exchange for the trailing rope binding Reyson's hands. He is silent, and he is seething. Betrayal stings sharply in his chest. The human tugs at the rope, and a fog settles over everything as Reyson is loaded into a finely decorated carriage, sat amongst plush cushions and fine silk curtains as if the ropes around his wrists were fine jewelry.

"You're even more beautiful than I could have imagined," he thinks he hears the lump of a creature before him say. "Let me hear your beautiful voice." Reyson doesn't say a word.

The building they arrive at is as extravagant as the carriage. Reyson is pulled by the ropes like a dog on a leash, and yet he cannot bring himself to struggle. He is loaded into a room decorated in white and green and gold, his hands untied. His purchaser leaves him with nothing but the silence for company.

He burns with rage, and yet he is dazed and his head is foggy. His first night in Duke Tanas' villa is a haze of undisturbed silence and decorations taunting him with their mockery of Serenes Forest. Trees carved from marble with leaves of jade. White and green silks embroidered with gold like filigree draping across the opening of a small alcove. A nest of finely decorated pillows beneath a ceiling painted to resemble a canopy of leaves beneath a starry sky.

When the human visits him in the morning with an introduction and a dress of flowing white silk, Reyson drives his fist into Oliver's face with all the strength he can muster. While his hand explodes with pain, blood drips steadily from the human's now crooked nose. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Until a healer comes to mend their bones, and they're back to square one. With great reluctance, Reyson changes into the dress.

"I do not want you hurt," Oliver tells him. "You will live in nothing but comfort here. More comfort than you would get with the sub-humans." It takes all of Reyson's willpower not to break the sorry excuse for a man's nose again.

He doesn't sleep on that second night. He only lies in the nest and tries to imagine that instead of flowing silken skirts, he is wearing his sturdy robe. Tries to imagine that his body is as strong and masculine as Tibarn's. Tries to pretend the stars painted on his ceiling are the real thing, to believe that if he wishes on them hard enough his prayers will come true.

The next few days are a blur. A new dress is given to him to wear each morning, and each night he lies awake until he can no longer fight the weight of his eyelids. Oliver tries to convince him to speak. Reyson is stubbornly silent. He wishes on painted stars and sits in the nest in the alcove as often as he can.

Oliver draws a word out of him at breakfast sometime after he stops counting the days. A hand reaches too close to Reyson's wing, and the words slip out before he can stop himself. "Don't." And maybe all his voice training has paid off, because Oliver looks startled when the heron speaks.

"Your voice is so deep," the human says. "What kind of curse has caused such a delicate lady's voice to sound like a man's?"

"If practice is a curse, I cursed myself," Reyson snaps, and he can feel the disdain from his captor. "I am no woman."

"Your body says otherwise," Oliver says, and Reyson leaves to hide in his nest.

He's woken that night by the duke's bare hands on his bare skin, and the rest is lost in fog and haze as the world burns and pudgy, filthy fingers run over his feathers, his ears, every inch of his body. He pleads for it to stop. It doesn't, not for what feels like an eternity. And then, when it does, he is left bare and shivering with tears in his eyes and whispers in his ears. There's blood in the nest. The scent of it assaults his nose. Oliver promises clean, fresh blankets and pillows for tomorrow. Reyson can't do anything but gasp for air he can't seem to find. He's alone before long, and he's shaking from more than the cold.

Oliver smiles at him in the morning. Asks if he enjoyed last night. Reyson stares at his tea until it's gone cold. He doesn't eat anything. He feels like he'll just throw it back up.

When he's allowed back in his room, the nest has been cleaned. He still does not venture into the alcove where it waits for him. He tries to fight the duke off that night when he comes. But Reyson is frail, and Oliver is not, and his body is once again a plaything for the human to do with as he pleases. The time after the duke leaves is spent the same as the night before.

Reyson stops wishing on the painted stars. He eats little, and sleeps less. Nights are no longer quiet, and he hates that he misses the silence. He doesn't know how long he's been here. Months? Years? It's all a hazy blur, and he doesn't care to look past the fog.

Then Tibarn comes for him. The hawk finds him wrapped in loose-fitting silk. Reyson cries, and Tibarn drapes his jacket around the heron's shoulders. It is warm and sturdy and smells of sweat and blood, and it is better than anything Reyson has worn in... however long it has been. He feels more fragile than ever, wrapped in Tibarn's clothes and arms and wings.

"Did he hurt you?" Tibarn asks, and all Reyson can do is nod as sobs tear out of his chest. "He can't touch you anymore." There's anger in Tibarn's voice. "I'm not leaving your side until he's gone for good."

Quiet as a breath, Reyson says, "Please don't."


End file.
